Blog of (Mostly) Independent Music
These are all songs found on free, legal music-sharing blogs; however, if you're a rights holder to a song and want it removed please e-mail me mailto:ceruleanlobster@yahoo.com . *Please* put "music" in the subject line. I have 6,000 + e-mails. Seriously. I have the Gmail account, too, but it has 11,000 emails. For reals.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

This is not the first time I've admitted that I have no frikkin' idea what a song is about. It won't be the last time. So, it's no surprise that I'm admitting: I have no frikkin' idea what this song is about, other than it mentions "Mr. Jones" and "New England", which makes me wonder if it's an ode to the new Indiana Jones movie (hey--some of it did take place in Connecticut). When writing these posts, though, I try to write about my impressions of a song. I never pretend to be particularly insightful or musically aware in any professional capacity. (Really--that's what sets me apart. It's a thing--go with it.) So, my impression of this song was immediate, visceral and overwhelming. I immediately thought it was amazing and wanted to be onstage with the band--I wanted to be part of this song. I want to stage dive into the audience. I want to...(got lost in my own punk rock fantasy world...sorry). The singer's commanding, staccato voice reminds me of early Siouxsie--particularly the way she trills some of the words. The fevered and energized music reminds me of the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs (which in turn reminded me of Siouxsie...you see where it's going). I hear a little Ramones influence, too--particularly in the way the melody forcefully repeats, as if the singer's trying to imprint the song directly into your brain. Even if I don't understand what the lyrics are, I'm gripped by the singer's charismatic voice and the sheer compulsion of the music.

Steve Smith, "That Town" (There's also a song on the album called "This Town", but that's a different song. So, this song "That Town" is different than that song "This Town". Hee hee. I have to get my laughs somehow.)

"That Town" features the polished electronic ambience found in the music of his band, Dirty Vegas, but there's also a rustic pop/folk overlay with the addition of Smith's melodic, unadorned vocals--kind of if Elbow and Dirty Vegas merged. Cool, huh? Yes, cool. The result is a folk song for early mornings outside the club, wiping off running mascara on your hands, looking for a cab, wondering how much money you spent vs. how much money you actually lost (that little purse you bring doesn't have much room). Your heel has broken, the sun's coming up, but you feel strangely fine.

This song starts off with a dirge-y electronic keyboard line--this would make the song too stripped down if it remained that way, but within a few seconds the other instruments kick in: a jangly tambourine (the only kind, I guess), a steady drum beat, a sneaky guitar threading in and out and varied keyboard melodies all come together with the singer's wan, weary voice to form a song as assured and complete as those by other, more well-known artists making pop music for self-aware people, such as The Long Winters and The Decemberists. I think that was all one sentence. I'm sorry. I've been sick, and the computer hasn't been working...blogging under duress isn't easy. Throw Me The Statue definitely has a place beside those great modern rock bands, and their inclusion in the roster of the spectacular Secretly Canadian label shows I'm not the only one who thinks so.

Special Edition, #2, May 25th, 2008 (trying to get my podcasting software to work)

***The podcast I have planned for next weekend is still going to posted next weekend--this podcast is supplemental. A bonus. Something you didn't expect (except you probably did expect it 'cause I kept saying I was going to do it. Whatever.)

Friday, May 23, 2008

Update:

Funny thing--it looks like the podcasting software doesn't work. So, I will try to get that fixed and do the podcast sometime this weekend. Of course the whole point of doing this special podcast was to test the podcasting software. Since I can't even open the podcasting software, then I know definitively that the podcasting software does not work.

I originally posted this podcast last week, but then I got a head cold and didn't have the energy to post the shownotes. I still don't really have the energy, but I know I needed to get it done before I forgot. I'm also going to record another special episode later because I need to test the podcasting software to see if it works after we installed it on a different computer. I'll explain that better when I post those shownotes (probably later today).

While some of their earlier songs (examples: "Fraud In The 80's" and "Thing Long") were considered by some (not me) to be a little too sing-songy and rigid, (I remember one reviewer wrote that their joint, matching vocals were "like children singing") their newest single offers more naturally blended harmonies and softer vocals from Kori Gardner and Jason Hammel. The song is more complex and more subtle, though no more or less enjoyable than their previous works. It's a little different from what they've done in the past, but it's still Mates of State--they continue to infuse their music with an openness, a buoyancy and an unabashed enthusiasm that's catching. Those are qualities I try to channel when I'm not feeling so optimistic, but the difference is that those qualities seem to be natural to them--no channeling or reaching required.

Bow to the Bauhuas. Get down on your knees. They are still the DRGs (Dark Rock Gods) they were during my musical infancy--I suspect they always will be. Before Tones on Tail, before Love and Rockets (..ahh..."No New Tale To Tell"), before Peter Murphy's exquisite solo albums, and now, it seems, after. There is still Bauhaus. Excuse me while I pass out--too much Dark Rock Godness for the senses to handle.

Dosh has created a composition of eclectic sounds, beginning with several beautifully arranged and stunningly uncluttered piano lines, and merging with a host of other instruments to form a cohesive but disparate whole. Keyboards sneak in just to pop out again within a few seconds. Electric guitar thrashes through with a forceful will, reminding me of the odd mixture His Name is Alive often integrated into their songs: strange, haunting melody trading off with "wall of sound" type guitars. The song is a collage--controlled but chaotic. Non-sensical, yet perfectly self-aligned. If it all didn't sound so good together, you might think this was two (or more) different songs.

79Cortinaz, "Electric Hym" (The band gave me permission to use the song, but not to post the mp3. I got the song from Amazon, not iTunes like I said in the podcast--that's what I get for doing a podcast when I'm tired!)WebsiteMyspace

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Lanterns on the Lake list influences including Sigur Ros, Arcade Fire, Joni Mitchell, Reindeer Section, Low and The Album Leaf. I can hear bits of each of these artists in this song: the lilting loveliness of Joni Mitchell, the reverberated feedback of Reindeer Section and the searing, soaring violin, reminiscent of the ultimate cacophonic (word? not a word?) band, Arcade Fire. I hear the ease and steadiness of Low, the lightness and calm of The Album Leaf and the heartbreaking beauty of Sigur Ros. Even the slightly downcast tone of the lyrics ("well, I'm still here. Made plans to get out, said I'd leave town this year") can't displace the pleasantly hazy gauze it throws over the listener. Instead it makes me want to lie on my bed and stare up, out of the window at the clouds and the piercing blue sky and wonder if there's anything out there looking back at me. Yes, this song reminds me of almost every day I spent in the early 90s.

"Leave the body, leave the mind". This isn't hard to do--the hypnotic quality of the melody and Anna's dark, rough-edged voice uges us through a dense, moody maze constructed of a sparse, kind of wicked piano line, rat-tat-tat type drums (that's the proper musical term) and Anna's eerie, distanced vocals--both immediate and evasive at the same time. I can almost see her sitting on a piano, microphone in hand a la Jessica Rabbit. The song sounds like the Velvet Underground doing a particularly daring James Bond theme. You could also say it's in the vein of Portishead--moody and tense, with a gravitational pull that brings you right in. (By the way, Portishead has a new album out).

What? You think old Lola only listens to haunting, enchanting songs? Okay, maybe 80% of the music I listen to is "haunting" and "enchanting". Some of it rocks out, too. This song is close to the rock of the 70's--Led Zeppelin with a little Elf Power thrown in. The vocals are un-in-tell-i-gi-ble, but I love the way his voice trills. It's most definitely showy, but it's not supposed to be subtle. The energy of the song is kept up by the vocals and the instruments: the guitars wash over the other instruments, crashing into the other parts of the song like an errant, strong current. The drums strengthen and steady the song--grounding the song so that it doesn't fly away like so many untethered things can. "Volatile" is a good way to describe it, but in only that it's unpredictable and uncontainable. It's also exciting, jolting you out of whatever sleep you had fallen into.

Nine Inch Nails' new album is completely free. They don't even let you pay for it! (Well, unless you buy the physical CD or vinyl.) I haven't downloaded it yet, but I will soon. I guess I'd better now, in case the offer goes away.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

I listen to a lot of different "styles" of music that can mostly be classified as "independent". I generally don't like the term "indie" because in and of itself it doesn't mean anything--"indie" isn't a style of music, it's a status. I feel a little bit better about using the term "indie rock", though--that phrase both implies the state of independence and the style of music: rock. Yes, in addition to folk, alt-country and hard-to-classify styles, I also like to rock. Not rock in the "I want to rock and roll all night and party every day" vein--I'm not much of a metal fan*--but rock in the "thrashing, wall-to-wall guitars" way. You know: the kind of guitar playing that rattles your bones. This song sets up the guitars effectively by being contrastingly staid. It starts off slow, quiet and methodically paced and then breaks wide open just as the singer "breaks [himself] in two". The guitar hops up, the music amps up and the building tension breaks. The song dips and rises during the song, building and breaking tension several times, never letting the listener settle into the hum of predictability.

*I say that, but I also love some of the prog-rock of the 70's like Queen that had elements of metal. I also love This is Spinal Tap. I am a complicated creature.

You could call this song Americana; you could call it Alt-Country. The harmonica (oh, blessed harmonica) certainly adds the country tinge to it. To me, this song stretches with the vastness of a Midwestern field--you can see to each end of the horizon, and it gives the illusion of never ending. The harmonica digs deep into the soul, reminding me of the first time I realized I loved the harmonica, the first time I heard U2's The Joshua Tree (which is actually the first time I realized I liked any country or blues inflections in music). This song could be a cousin to the songs on The Joshua Tree. Expansive, gripping, soulful, quiet, humble. This song reminds me of the best of this country, so yeah, I guess it is Americana.

The process of death has never been so inspiring and, well, comforting. Being a water sign, I find the idea of returning to the water "from where we're all born", rather than the earth, less daunting and more peaceful. I'd certainly rather gently sink through the ocean rather than just stay in one spot. Of course being a believer in the circular (and often contradictory) nature of life, I also appreciate the notion that after life, we "feed the ghosts", we "feed the living". We'll be each part of life: a "stranger", a "friend", a "hero" and a "tragedy" (okay, I left the part out about the leper, because...not-so-comforting). It's a sad song, and sort of numbing; the kind of song that distances you from yourself and brings you back, also. It's nostalgic (after you die, "they'll find the heart shaped locket, an old photograph of you in daddy's arms") but it'll rip you away from the nostalgia before you have a chance to set up shop there. It's an uplifting song, sort of freeing. It's the kind of song that really does bring you back to where you began. The music is hypnotic--unsettling and settling at the same time. It pulls you from your consciousness, completely subverting your sense of self and place, taking you from what you know and depositing you in this new place that's most familiar. The instruments both compliment and contradict each other: one moment an instrument is screeching in anticipation, then another instrument swings low ominously and just as quickly another instrument swoops in and carries the song upward. The instruments mimic the concept of the song, acting out the life and death cycle of the subject matter. The music swells and plateaus, with a presence reminiscent of both Final Fantasy and Beirut--epic, though not grandiose. The singer can't be pinned as being either adult or child, male or female. Though I'm pretty sure it's a guy, he purposefully makes his voice malleable, unpinnable, unclassifiable--like the angel of the song, like the subject of the song: able to be two seemingly opposite conditions at once.

The band was courted by major labels, but they earned many, many points in my book by turning them down and instead creating an independent, not-for-profit record label called Earthology. They seem to practice their ideology, which earns my respect. According to the website, they use "reclaimed" jewel cases (though I've been pretty much just buying digital music for the past year), they educate on environmentalism and they consult with artists and musicians, helping them identify the most environmentally responsible products and methods.

If you would like to add these posts to a reader, this is the feed. I had a podcast for 4 years, but I ended it. I know--I cried, too. I'm going to start another one to go with my second blog, Cerulean's Love of Pop Culture.

If you're a musician and would like me to consider your music for the blog or the podcast, please send me a link to one of more mp3s and please explicitly state if I have permission to post the mp3 to my site. If not, I'll use it in the podcast but not post the mp3. Please note I will consider all submissions, but I'm not guaranteeing I will use every one.